A Love Story in the Big Apple
by AGleekyPackersFan
Summary: AU: Kurt has made his way to New York City after graduating high school, making his dreams a reality. As he tries to get used to his new life in the Big Apple with one Rachel Berry, he finally gets the chance to experience one of the many things he never got in high school: love. Straight!Blaine! *STORY IS ON HIATUS DUE TO LACK OF VIEWERS.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, fellow readers!**

**Here it is! The fanficiton that I have had in my head since I was halfway through "Being a Bothersome" (go check it out if you want to) and I'm so pumped about how showing it to you all.**

**Even though this is AU, I'm trying to follow some points of the Glee canon plot but there are plenty of differences. And posting chapters will depend how fast I get them done because I have a busy life. **

**Anyways, let's get on with the show!**

* * *

Kurt Hummel loved New York.

He thought he would have never see it after going two years ago on the Glee club's failed loss at Nationals here in the Big Apple.

Since NYADA had surprisingly neglected his admission to the college he was stuck in stupid Lima, Ohio, serving coffee throughout the summer at the shop that he always hanged out while in McKinley with Rachel, Mercedes, or with the other member of his notorious Glee club.

Rachel Berry, somehow, made way into NYADA, which was like a bitch slap across Kurt's face. He _nailed _his "Not the Boy Next Door" audition for Carmen Tibideaux, the Dean of Vocal Performance and Song Interpretation at the school, to the auditorium floor while Rachel practically choked on her "Don't Rain On My Parade" tryout and sobbed on the stage as Carmen Tibideaux left the auditorium when she started over on her song on the third try. He was there to watch the whole scene along with Finn and Mr. Schuester. It was one of the most depressing things he ever saw.

But nonetheless, the Glee club helped her be sent off on her way at the end of her senior year, which also resulting the cancelation of her wedding with Finn. No one knew about this, but Kurt had heard Finn crying himself to sleep that night before being shipped off to the army the next morning at his own will. Kurt hasn't seen him since.

While at New York, Rachel was trying to make it on her own throughout the summer, boarding at the NYADA dorms. School then resumed in both Lima and New York City, and it seemed like Kurt could never get a spare moment to call up Rachel and catch her up on the gossip in his town. Then late one night, roughly a few days after school started at NYADA, Rachel despairingly called Kurt, weeping over the speaker that she missed her "best gay". She then rasped about how lonely she was, how her own roommate hasn't even acknowledged her own presence, and her dance teacher was trying to make her life like a living hell (and she even said that she was worse than _Sue Sylvester_). It was a little overdramatic even for her, but Kurt stayed on the line.

Throughout that night, they talked, a lot, up until the next morning when Kurt had to leave for his early morning shift at the Lima Bean. They talked about getting Kurt back on his feet before the new school year started; maybe try to audition for NYADA again during the winter semester. One of the main reasons that caught Kurt's attention like a fish being reeled in was that New York was the ideal place to meet other men at his own age (or a _little_ bit older), which he had never considered up until that point.

He never had a boyfriend. He was the only out gay kid during his years at McKinley High School. Throughout his freshman and beginning of his sophomore year, he kept his sexuality his deepest and darkest secret. Finally, he came out to his dad, and he recalled the heavy weight being lifted off of his shoulders and the sudden amount of air that could take in one breath. Then he was officially "out of the closet" right after that.

But that didn't mean that the rest of society, besides his family and friends, had to embrace the love and accept for who and what he was.

Kurt shook away the sudden tidal wave of past memories. He had to leave the life from Lima behind. After all, he was in _New York City_ in New York: one of the greatest havens on Earth where dreams could become a reality. It was the city so nice they had to name it twice.

He fantasized of being here for years, longer than he could remember. And here he was, tugging his two suitcases and shoulder bag out of the JFK International Airport; wearing one of the biggest smiles he had in weeks prior to coming here. Although it was his second time flying an airplane to New York, it still gave Kurt the thrill of traveling at such distances across a great part of the country

He pushed open a set of doors with the shoulder not carrying his shoulder bag out of the airport to be met with pouring rain.

Despite the dreary day, Kurt couldn't wait to see the rest of his future in front of his eyes.

xXxXx

The rain had slowed down to a light drizzle as the cab pulled right in front of Rachel's new home that she rented for the two of them. Kurt unbuckled his seatbelt and paid the driver the respectful fare before grabbing his luggage and shoulder bag and hopping out of the cab.

Rachel had sent plenty of pictures, but being in front of the "loft" (as she called it) for the first time had Kurt's brain running laps inside his head. It looked rather dingy and cheap on the outside, but he knew it was warm and welcoming on the inside. With the help of her fathers, Rachel was able to get pieces of furniture to occupy the empty spaces in the loft and curtains to help give them privacy for their bedrooms (as Rachel explained to him). It wasn't too bad for a rent of $2,300 per month.

Just as Kurt approached the door to knock, the door itself opened in a flash that made him flinch. Revealed at the doorway was Rachel Berry, of course wearing a _plaid skirt_;seriously what was she still thinking?

But being engulfed in the arms of his best friend, Kurt felt like he was finally at home.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the response to this story! Even though it was extremely small, it surely gave me a boost to post this earlier than planned. ****Unsurprisingly, I haven't watched "New Directions" yet… so NO SPOILERS.**

**There will be a shoutout to ****whomever can guess the television show mentioned in this chapter. And r****eviews will be really appreciated :)**

**Now, onto the chapter!**

* * *

"So what would you like for breakfast?"

Kurt shrugged as he shifted on the seat of the vintage flea market chair he was sitting on, and began to impatiently twirl the spoon in his hand. "What do we have?"

Rachel shuffled with her pink bunny slippers and polka-dot bathrobe to a pantry filled with a few boxes and cans of food. "We have some cereal. I haven't gotten the chance to really go grocery shopping yet."

"Just hand me a box." He stopped spinning the spoon and slid it back into the bowl that made a quiet _cling _when the two surfaces collided.

Rachel giggled as she tossed a colorful box across the kitchen to Kurt's waiting hands, which he caught with ease.

"Really? 'Froot Loops'?" Kurt asked incredulously as he looked at the toucan mascot on the cover with distaste. "I hate 'Froot Loops'. The flavor is just unappealing when it dissolves in the milk. It's entirely unhealthy. Don't you have 'Cheerios' or something?"

"Just eat it, Kurt, stop being a diva," Rachel scolded, walking by the table and placing a carton of milk right in front of him. "You can go shopping later for a better variety if you want. Meanwhile, I have to get ready for another day dancing… in _hell_ with the devil herself."

Kurt gave her a pat of sympathy on her back as Rachel disappeared into the bathroom to do her morning routine.

He opened the cereal and poured the contents into the bowl until it was just right, and grabbed the milk that was next to his right arm.

His fingers spun open the cap and immediately the smell of the milk was _intoxicating _and he swore he could feel his nostrils burning. Kurt checked the label and groaned out loud. It just so happened that it wasn't cow's milk; it was the vegan milk that Rachel drank.

He was done. Forget it. Kurt stood up; the chair screeching as it was pushed back, and carried his bowl of cereal to the trashcan placed near the sink, and dumped the food. The bowl and spoon were then almost carelessly tossed into the sink.

Kurt stormed to the couch and flopped on it like a fish, not caring about his posture. His first breakfast in New York was ruined. And sure, he was making a big deal about it, but he could still feel his nose _scorching _from the smell of vegan milk. Who knew it smelled so bad?

He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, switching on the television to a show about a cake shop in New Jersey owned by an Italian American family or something above those lines.

Kurt was watching the main star of the show lecture one of the delivery guys for messing up on delivery orders when Rachel came in, rushing around in a hurry.

"Hey Kurt, I'm leaving for NYADA now. Is there anything you need?" Kurt smiled softly, knowing how much his friend liked to pamper him like a needy toddler.

"Nope, don't worry about me. You can go on ahead. I probably will go out later to get groceries like you suggested."

Rachel leaned down to press a quick peck on his cheek. "Alright, I'll let you be," she then grabbed a bag hanging from the coat rack near the door, and left with a wave and a "bye", the door slamming shut behind her.

The show got boring after a few more minutes of watching, so Kurt evidentially chose to switch off the show and decided that he had to get something productive done. Taking his phone and wallet from his room, he strode out of the loft; ready to explore the city he now can call home.

xXxXx

He had been there shopping all day long, from when he arrived at a nearby grocery store at eight in the morning to nearly two in the afternoon. Kurt would've been home by noon if the lines weren't as long as Times Square itself.

The customers in line were a pain. Behind him was presumed to be a hobo in rags who smelled of rotten fish, ash, rum, and something else that Kurt did _not_ want to know. Then there was the forty something lady in front of him with splatter stains on her rumpled shirt and baggy sweatpants and had a wailing toddler that she didn't bother to even control.

To make things worse, he had a migraine and he hadn't have lunch yet. He could feel his stomach slowly beginning to eat his insides.

By the time Kurt had reached the loft, the plastic bags that he was carrying were getting close to caving in on him. There were so many of them hanging on his arms, and his arms were beginning to grow numb.

He was digging for the keys in his pocket when the door slid open and Rachel gratefully came to his aid.

xXxXx

"There!" Rachel pushed the door to the refrigerator shut and clapped her hands. "All done with that! Now to start with dinner!"

"Can I cook?" Kurt asked, leaning against the counter near the stove. "I really want to see if I can accomplish making a Chicken Parmesan."

Rachel sighed. "Alright, but you can make _me_ a salad instead. I have vocal runs to got through."  
"Done deal." He was already reaching over to fetch the pans from the cupboards and searching the drawers for other necessitates needed. "I'll get started, and please try not to do your runs so loud, because sooner or later the neighbors are going to complain at some point."

"I'll try," Rachel said as she walked away. "But tomorrow I call making dinner."

Kurt turned his head with a raised eyebrow. "What will you make?"

"Vegan macaroni and cheese, what else?" Then she strutted away, already starting vocal warm-ups.

Making dinner was compared to nothing of what he went through during his amazing grocery shopping adventure. Within twenty-five minutes tops, he was setting Rachel's salad on the table with her glass of water and he was drizzling the sauce over his chicken and spaghetti.

At this point, Rachel must've taken a break on her vocal runs and must've inhaled the scent of dinner and she came walking in like a hypnotized animal.

"So glad you can join me," Kurt teased as he set his dinner and glass of water on the table.

"That was really quick." Rachel observed, sitting down opposite of Kurt.

"I know right?" He took a bite and chewed and swallowed before speaking again. "So how was class today?"

Rachel giggled. "Oh, Brody was helping me with-"

"I'm sorry," Kurt interrupted. "May I ask who this 'Brody' character is?"

"Oh, just some guy that I met over morning routines during the beginning of the school year."

"And you never told me anything about it?"

Rachel blushed. "Um, well, I guess I never really mentioned him."

"Is he cute?" Kurt asked with a tiny smirk.

"Of course!" She took a swig of water. "And what took you so long shopping?" Obviously she wanted to change the subject. "Was there a special someone that you didn't want to leave?"

"Of course not," Kurt said, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes at the assumption. "The place was packed tighter that a sardine can and you wouldn't _believe_ the people in line."

"I know," Rachel said. "There was this one man, I remember, when I visited, who couldn't stop talking to me about his pet boa constrictor named Ronald the seventh!"

"You wouldn't _believe_ the lady in front of me with a screeching child that she didn't even bother with."

Rachel laughed. "Oh, yeah? When I was looking for vegan milk, there was this one lady with a horrendous baby in the cart that wouldn't stop screaming and _two toddlers_ whining besides her."

Kurt tried his best to stifle his laughter with more food, but it didn't work, and he ended up almost chocking on some noodles, with spurred Rachel to burst out laughing.

After fooling around some more, they quickly cleaned up, Rachel dismissing her herself to go "work on some homework". Clearly she didn't want to be bothered, sending Kurt a warning glare at his way before she scurried to her room.

Only because he was alone, he went to Netflix and watched that cake show from earlier that day before heading off to bed nearly well after ten.

With a groggily yawn, he trudged to his bedroom like he had chains cuffed to his ankles. But his drowsiness wasn't enough to overhear Rachel's giggles from her room whispering in hushed tones.

"Brody, you can't just say those things to me," Rachel whispered, but giggled nonetheless.

There was a short pause before Rachel said something about heading to bed then hearing the distinct click of Rachel's phone ending the call.

Curiosity took over him like fire, and Kurt peeked into the room a few short moments later.

Rachel was lying on her stomach away from the doorway. In her hand she was rolling in the pads of her hands the engagement ring that Finn gave to her when he proposed back in their senior year in McKinley. She had on her gloomy face she had when she was about ready to cry as her eyes bore into the ring.

Finally she kissed the small diamond on top before sliding it into the drawer of her bedside table, switching off the lights, and crawling into the covers.

Kurt knew immediately that his best friend was still missing her lover. Even if some supposed hunk of a guy swooped into her life trying to win her heart over, she would never give it in because it was with someone else, that someone else being one Finn Hudson.

He parted from the door and head to his own bedroom; sleep overcoming him once his head hit the pillows.

The sleep didn't last very long.

_Kurt felt like he was running. He was sprinting across the empty lands that never seemed to end._

_ It was getting darker, and darker, and he was beginning to stumble blindly in the blackness. He didn't stop; he kept on going. That is, running from whatever he was running from in the first place._

_ His breath was running shorter and shorter within each step he took and his muscles were burning._

_ He was suddenly stopped short at a door that couldn't handle Kurt's weight and came crashing down._

_ Kurt struggled to recover from his fall and get back up on his feet. But he just couldn't. Something, or someone, was holding him down. He couldn't move, and when he attempted to, he felt like he was being pushed down even further._

_ He shouted, squirming around and flailing, trying to escape from his captor._

_ His screams were cut off abruptly when a pair of lips smashed against his._

Then he woke up, panting and his body covered in sweat.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Holy mother of sweet Jesus Christ. Klaine. In NYC. Best. Thing. Ever. And the whole episode itself? Totally awesome. Much better than _this_.**

**Also, you should notice the summary has changed. I completely forgot to add that last part in so that should be a real shocker for y'all :)**

**Are there any mistakes or errors? Anything incorrect or needs fixing? Is this too boring or (gasp) lame? Drop in a review, and it would make the story five times better.**

**Now that's out of the way, enjoy!**

* * *

"Good morning, Kurt!" Rachel's perky voice chirped when she passed the bathroom.

Kurt could only mumble an incoherent "good morning" due to the fact that he had a toothbrush and a bucketful of toothpaste in his mouth. Also, he barely got any more sleep after his nightmare of memories that just keep on resurfacing. Once he shook away the dream, he was wide-awake at three in the morning. And it seemed he couldn't get back to sleep, so he ended up just staring up at the ceiling until seven when his alarm clock disturbed his peaceful state of mind.

Not the most perfect way to start off a Wednesday.

Once he finished with his teeth, he styled his hair in its usual coif up in the air. With a small grin of satisfaction, Kurt left the bathroom and walked to the kitchen with a poise that can only be described as confident and superior to everyone else around him.

Rachel was sitting at the table, her hair styled in curls and wearing a pencil skirt down to her knees with sleek boots climbing up her shins and a simple gray shirt with a lightweight forest green hoodie on top.

"Aren't you going to eat breakfast?" Kurt asked, sitting down next to her.

Rachel tapped an empty glass that was sitting next to her. "I just had a smoothie. I think that's good enough for breakfast."

Kurt nodded, eyeing the newspaper that Rachel was grasping in her hands. "I didn't even know we had a newspaper."

"This is not a newspaper," Rachel said. "It's like a news_letter_ in the _appearance _of a newspaper for our building that our landlord prints out for us. Don't ask. It showed up in our mailbox this morning."

Kurt scooted his chair over so he was no longer sitting across from her but right at her side so he can see what his diva of a friend was reading.

Rachel seemed to read his mind. "Just so you know, I'm reading the 'help wanted' section," she folded up the newsletter and tossed it across the table. She stood up and looked at Kurt with furrowed eyebrows. "You know…"

Kurt moaned, because he immediately knew where this was going. "Rachel-"

Rachel gasped and snapped her fingers. "Kurt, you should get a job!"

"Why do _I _have to get a job?" Kurt protested. "Can't you get one too?"

"Remember, Kurt," Rachel sang with a glint in her eyes. "I have classes at NYADA around the clock. And to make up for me not getting a job, I'll do the laundry… for the _both _of us." She added.

Kurt just shook his head in defeat and grabbed the newsletter. "Any good jobs on here?" He asked, scanning the sheet.

With a painted purple fingernail, she pointed at one part of the paper. "There's this great diner nearby called the 'Spotlight Diner' and they're looking for singing waiters," she spun around and walked towards the door. "If I were you, go for that one. They make pretty good money and plus, you get to work your vocal chords _while _working without getting yelled at," she gave him a gigantic smile. "Now I best be going, because once again, I have dance class with the evil snake lady that I must call my teacher."

Kurt sighed as he watched his best friend leave. She did have a point. The amount of work that NYADA surprisingly gave their students were mountain loads each night and he had seen Rachel up late at night working on whatever homework she had. And having her doing both of their laundry in exchange of not getting a job? In a way, not so clever, because both of their clothes have specific washing sequences in order to prevent from them being ruined in the slightest way.

He abruptly stood up from his chair and walked over to the cabinets filled with cereal and pulled out a box of Cheerios.

Every time he ate this cereal, he could never hold in his giggles because this cereal reminded him each time of the name of the cheerleader squad from his high school.

He poured himself a bowl and grabbed a carton of milk and poured it in with the cereal.

Before sitting down, he checked the carton. It _definitely _wasn't Rachel's vegan milk.

xXxXx

Kurt could hear the music literally a block away.

From the newsletter, he got the address of the Spotlight Diner and right after he finished his breakfast, he left the loft with the newsletter clasped tight in his hand.

When he crossed a busy street he was face to face with a wild performance going on inside with the whole diner erupting with flashing lights, performers dancing on top of tables, and at the same time, people being catered by the waiters and waitresses. It was so coordinated, Kurt didn't know how it was possible, and his jaw dropped open.

He pushed open the doors and that what was when he finally recognized the song: Bastille's "Pompeii". Kurt didn't even know the singer, a dark-skinned man dancing on top a counter with two girls at his side.

Kurt just stood off to the side as he watched the performers finish their performance with the whole diner clapping hard for their song. Then the dancers from the tabletops hopped off and went back to their jobs like it was nothing at all.

Just then, a girl with her blonde hair streaked with bright pink wrapped in a high ponytail and full lips coated with a simple red lipstick flounced over to him.

"Hi there!" The girl beamed at him and Kurt flinched at the bubbly squeak in her voice. "Welcome to the Spotlight Diner! How many?"

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until he realized that she meant how many _people_ for a table. "Oh, no, I'm not eating. I'm here about getting a job-"

The waitress jumped up and began clapping her hands happily. "Yay for you! We've been looking for a new male singer for the past what, three weeks now?" Suddenly Kurt was being pulled forward as the perky waitress grabbed his wrist and began to drag him across the diner.

"So you will be interviewed by the manager, Gunther," the girl babbled, and Kurt barely ducked his head in time to avoid colliding with a waiter carrying a dish. "He's a tough guy. No, scratch that, a very scary and tough _looking _guy. I'm sure he doesn't have a criminal record in whatever home country he's from. But deep inside, I know he has a heart. That is, a heart that beats for money and nothing else." They stopped in front of a door with a sign hanging from it that read "management".

Kurt nodded, trying to let the information not overload his head. "Okay…"

"By the way, are you Jewish?" The girl had her hands on her hips and looking at him with a curious glint in her wide, sparkling blue eyes.

Kurt sputtered. "I-I… no, no! Definitely not Jewish."

The waitress perked up instantly. "Awesome! That was what I thought. Then Gunther won't through his stapler at you. Well, good luck!"

Then Kurt was being pushed through the swinging door. He looked back to see the door was swinging slowly behind him and the waitress who was officially scaring him was gone.

He looked back to see the man presumed to be "Gunther", sitting at a desk filled with papers and a plate scattered with crumbs. The man's eyes were piercing right through Kurt like x-ray vision, almost as if he knew he was coming in today.

"What's your name, goody-two shoes?" He asked with a gruff voice with a hint of an accent, either German or Austrian.

Kurt resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes at the pathetic nickname and raised his chin to show that he wasn't scared of no crazy manager. "Kurt Hummel. I want a job here. A singing waiter, to be specific." He took a few steps forward so he was standing right in front of the man's desk.

"Can you sing?"

"Of-of course I can!"

"Experience?"

Kurt cocked his head. "Experience?"

"You look young. Do you have any singing experience in high school?"

"I had done my school's glee club since sophomore year and participated in the school's musical in my senior year."

Gunther seemed deep in thought and it was completely silent in the small office except the chatter of the customers outside and the clatters and sizzles of the cooking in the kitchen, which was right next to the office.

Finally, after a few awkward moments of Kurt shuffling his feet, Gunther stood up and offered his hand out. "Congrats, young Jedi. You got yourself a job."

Kurt almost burst with joy. His first job in New York clasped in his hands. "Thank you very much." He shook hands with his new manager.

"Now, you start tomorrow early. Your shifts for every day except Sundays will be from six to two," Gunther droned, as if he had rehearsed it in front of a mirror multiple times. "You can get the proper uniform from the carbonated blonde from Happy Land, Victoria. Yeah, Victoria's her name. She's usually by the cashier at this time, unless she's trying to seduce Travis again…" he sighed, sitting back down.

"Is there anything else… sir?"

He waved his hand. "Nope. Skedaddle on your way back to your nest and I expect you six on the dot."

"Yes, thank you once again."

Just before Kurt could make an exit, he turned his head back to ask one more question. "What is a 'Jedi'?"

Gunther looked up in surprise, and then simply snorted. "Unfortunate," he waved his hand at Kurt. "Now shoo, I have important matters to deal with."

Kurt knew it was his time to leave, otherwise Gunther could have thrown him out, so he pushed the door open to smack right into the waitress who he met when he first stepped into the Spotlight Diner.

"Well? Did you get the job?"

"Yes I did," Kurt said with a small smile.

The girl squealed and hopped on the balls of her feet. "Congrats! You're officially a singing waiter!" She jabbed out her hand, with her long nails painted with bright neon green poking out on the ends of her fingertips. "I'm Victoria, and I'm sure we'll be great acquaintances!"

Kurt shook her hand. Now he could put a name to a face. "So you're Victoria. Gunther told me I can get my uniform from you."

"That's right!" She gave him a pat on the shoulder and gestured her head towards the front of the diner. "There right over here."

Kurt followed Victoria across the diner once again to the register right at the entrance.

"So what size will you be?" She bent over and began rummaging through boxes that could only contain the numerous uniforms.

But before Kurt could even consider the question, Victoria pulled out a set that seemed reasonable for his size. "Never mind. I'm sure these will fit," she carelessly tossed the set of clothes to him before standing up again and leaning against the counter. "If, somehow, puberty kicks in overnight, I can find you another size tomorrow."

Kurt caressed the fabric of the shirt uniform. It was scratchy and rough almost like sandpaper. "That's great," he said with faux enthusiasm, because this girl was starting to get on his nerves.

Victoria grinned. "I can't wait to be working aside you! Once again, I'm absolutely positive that we're gonna be amazing pals!"

"Wait, don't we have different shifts?" Kurt asked.

Victoria shrugged her shoulders. "Depending what your schedule is."

"I work from six in the morning to two in the afternoon." He told her.

She squealed, quite loudly, causing a few customers to glance at their way. "I have the same _exact _schedule as you! That means we get to spend eight wonderful hours with each other!"

Kurt's mind almost short-circuited. Six hours, every day except Sundays, with her rambling about absolute nonsense? He knew he was in for a tough time.

"That's great to hear," then he casually checked the time on his phone. "But listen, I better get going."

"Of course," Victoria said. "I'll see you tomorrow!" With that, she spun around and went back to work like Kurt didn't even exist.

xXxXx

After leaving the diner, Kurt went out and explored the wondrous city, looking through nearly every little vendor on the streets, and just strolling around the city.

He came back to the loft earlier than he thought, around six, with diner already in his hands. There was a small Thai restaurant just around the corner of the apartment building that he somehow missed before.

He had already started serving himself when Rachel came, barely alive.

"Hey, how was your day?" Kurt asked politely.

After hanging her coat, Rachel nearly stumbled to the table and she face-planted on the table. "I can't feel my limbs," she mumbled.

Kurt rolled his eyes, sticking a few more noodles into his mouth. "Oh, c'mon, you can't be _that _tired."

"I can't feel my limbs," she repeated, barely sitting up straight in her chair only to slouch against her chair.

"You want Thai?" He slid a small package with the vegan special to her. "It's one hundred percent vegan."

Like magic, she instantly perked up and tore the plastic covering and dug right in while Kurt just sat there and watch Rachel return from the dead.

"Feeling better?" Kurt asked, as Rachel was halfway through her meal in record time.

"Yes," she moaned. "Thank you so much. It's just that Miss July pushed us so damn hard in Ballet and she won't stop berating me." Kurt raised his eyebrows. Rachel only cursed when she was stressed. "But enough about me. What did you do?"

"I explored the city and practically did nothing else," Kurt began. "Well, except, I _maybe _have visited the Spotlight Diner and–"

"Wait, you _what_?"

"I got a job!" Kurt said. "At the Spotlight Diner!"

Rachel's jaw dropped open. "You got the job at the Spotlight Diner?" she repeated.

Kurt nodded and was just about to tell her the story when she lunged out of her chair and tackled him in a hug. "Kurt, you're amazing!" she acclaimed as she squeezed her best friend tighter. "Thank you so, _so _much."

He smiled and began to rub Rachel's back. "You're welcome."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys… so I haven't updated (with terrible excuses might I add) so I am sorry. Also, lack of inspiration continued to deprive me so send in a review if you want to yell at me for my absence.**

**And Glee right now? I have no words.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Kurt! Kurt! Wake _up_!"

Kurt wanted to slam off his alarm clock, but that wasn't how his clock shouldn't sound like. They don't have a voice that was like Rachel.

_Rachel_.

Kurt shot straight up, his eyes crinkling shut at the brightness of his bedroom.

But wait… he wasn't _in_ his bedroom.

"What…" Kurt stumbled to try to get up from the _bathroom _floor. The _dirty _bathroom floor with hair and dust and most likely plenty bacteria and other gross unmentionable things that always had Kurt double checking his feet to see if he had socks or shoes on.

Rachel helped him get back on his feet. Once he did he just stared dumbly at her.

"Rachel, what… what the hell happened?"

"I don't know!" she cried. "I came in here for my morning routine and I found you on the floor and I literally was scared that you were unconscious. You probably fell asleep coming into here."

Kurt tried to shake the lingering sleepiness and tiredness. "What time is it?"

She shrugged. "Well, according to my morning routine, I get up at exactly five thirty so I can get here to the shower exactly ten minutes later, and-"  
"I don't need a detailed description of you're routine," Kurt interrupted. "What _time _is it? As in, right now?"

"According to my schedule, it is nearly six, because I _wasted_ crucial ten minutes trying to wake you up."

Kurt squeaked as he rushed past Rachel and out of the bathroom. There was no need to take a _freaking shower_. He had a job that he was _late _for, to get to.

He was a firecracker now, speeding around the loft, getting ready to go to the Spotlight Diner. Rachel was no help, trying to ask her for little things like where they kept any bottles of hairspray or to help her find nail polish remover. Honestly, sometimes he didn't understand girls one bit.

His work uniform was god-awful. It itched all over and was a bit too big around his stomach and the sleeves were too long.

By the time he was ready to go, and had grabbed a granola bar from a pantry in the kitchen, he was running _so _behind, and he might as well kiss his new job goodbye.

But nonetheless, he shouted a farewell to Rachel and all but bolted out the door.

What was unfortunate was how busy it was at six fifteen in the morning. If it was busy during the special time when everyone was suddenly rushing to get home, it seemed three times worse.

Kurt had no personal space whatsoever to his trip to the Spotlight Diner. From the sidewalks, to the subway, to the sidewalks again, he was squished with unfamiliar people that either smelled or tried to strike a conversation with him.

Finally, he arrived, exhausted and out of breath. He tumbled through the doors to find the place jumping alive with customers and more employees serving them.

Then he jumped nearly a foot in the air when he felt someone grab his shoulder and harshly spin him around.

"Where were you?" Victoria asked, her eyes now menacing glares than the sparkling puppy eyes from yesterday.

"I-I," Kurt was caught off guard. Yesterday, this was girl was sweeter than cupcakes, but now she was a spicy jalapeño, ready to explode at any time.

"You can't just show up _thirty _minutes late! You're lucky that Gunther's sick, otherwise your ass would be out the door. Get to work." She sent him one more pair of icy eyes before striding off to her spot at the cashier.

Without a moment's hesitation, he got straight to work.

One of the assistant managers, a guy named Ronny, showed him his tables that he will serve at. They were up in the second level of the restaurant, the half closer to the stairs leading up to them.

Kurt hustled up the stairs that he didn't recognize, maybe because last time he didn't see them. For the rest of the day, he was up there, only coming back down to get the food and bring it back up to the hungry consumers.

It was a hellhole.

His first table that he served was a family with two screaming toddlers, and the parents gave them no discipline. Not only that, the whole family (_especially _the slightly overweight mother) were acting like pigs, digging into their food as if it was their last meal. Cleaning up their mess took him nearly ten minutes. The next wasn't as bad, three girls who gossiped about clothes and the cute boys going on at their workplace. They practically ignored him, only acknowledging his presence when it was really necessary.

Then there was the bubbly woman in her early thirties who was obviously flirting with him, and being extremely forward. The whole situation was unbelievably awkward and the lady didn't seem to notice. When he was left to clean her table, there was a napkin with a seven-digit number with the words "call me" right below it. Kurt simply tossed the napkin in with the rest of the trash.

Time passed by just a little bit quicker than he thought, and it was finally his lunch break, which was only fifteen minutes long. A generous cook with her gray hair wrapped back in a hairnet cooked him a juicy hamburger, telling him that he "needs more protein in that tiny body". Nonetheless, he scarfed it down, and he was back to work.

It was a nightmare. Kurt didn't have a chance to catch his breath, and it seemed everyone needed him for almost absolutely nothing at all. One man asked for him to pick up his napkin, which fell to the floor. With a twitching eye, he bent over, picked it up, and handed it to him.

The only chance he could get to let his feet rest for only a few precious moments was when he was cleaning the tables. While he wiping down (or scrubbing, to be more precise) a table that had an eight-month baby barfing all over the surface, he spotted Victoria strutting up the stairs out of the corner of his eye. Judging by her immensely creepy cheery smile, she was no longer angry with Kurt, and that made his shoulder relax just slightly.

"Hey there, sweetie," Victoria said, approaching him with her sickeningly happy grin. "How's the diner treating you?"

Kurt groaned as he continued to scrub even harder on the table. "It could be worse."

She sighed, and leaned on the tabletop. "For one thing, you're surviving much better than the other rookies that would come in on their first day. You should be proud."

Kurt looked up to her smiling down at him. How could she smile so wide for so long without her cheeks giving out from exhaustion? "Thank you," Kurt said. "That means a lot."

Suddenly, Kurt froze as her hand snaked into his own. "Of course it does," Victoria continued as if the gesture wasn't happening.

Kurt tried to tug away, but with no prevail. The girl had a vice grip and his fingers were starting to go numb.

"I'm sorry, but could you pry you hand from mine?"

Her hand sharply jerked back, her eyes narrowing at his. "Of course. My apologies."

Kurt's mouth gaped open as she started to walk away, with her grumbling things like "son of a…" and "how could he not…" but he couldn't hear any of the rest as her voice faded away as she stomped down the stairs back to the first story of the Spotlight Diner.

When Kurt finished wiping up the table, he headed back down, and stopped right at the bottom step when he saw the clock hanging off a wall nearby. His shift ended ten minutes ago.

Kurt couldn't have left the diner fast enough.

xXxXx

"I don't like this girl."

Kurt nodded as he scooped another bite of his cheesecake ice cream. "I know! She's little miss sunshine one minute, then she's the devil the next, then… I don't even know after that."

Rachel shrugged, leaning back further into the cushion of the couch. "I guess you'll just have to deal with her. Stand up to her like you did with the bullies back in McKinley."

"I know, I know," Kurt mumbled, taking an even bigger bite of the ice cream. "For now, I'm definitely staying away from her."

"Good for you. Oh, and by the way, you know our coffee machine?"

Kurt eyes directed away from the television screen playing the car commercial with the gecko to look at his friend curiously. "What about it?"

"It's broken."  
"What?" Kurt gasped. "You… you _broke _our coffee machine? My precious _coffee machine_?"

Rachel raised her hands up in defense. "Hey, now it's the perfect time to get rid of your nasty caffeine habit, am I right?"

"I _need_ my coffee in the morning, Rachel," Kurt shouted, slamming the carton of ice cream on the coffee table. "Where is it? Maybe I can fix it and save yourself from getting your hair _shaved_ by yours truly."

Rachel's eyes diverted towards the floor. "That's the thing… it's in the trash. It caught on fire."

There was an eerie silence as Kurt tried to keep his cool and to keep his brain from exploding into a million pieces inside his head. "Okay. That's no big deal. Instead, I'll just find some coffee shop nearby until we get the money to get a new one. Because I can_not_ get rid of my caffeine habit even if my life depended on it."

Rachel pouted, then scooted closer to envelope Kurt in a hug. "I'm sorry. I don't even know how it _happened_. I promise to be more careful next time."

Kurt sighed and let Rachel squeeze tighter. "As much as I loathe your insanity, I can't stay mad at you forever."

Both of them hugged even tighter.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: ****I'm starting this off with a shout-out to _Guest_/_Anonymous _for guessing the television show that was mentioned in Chapter 2! Congrats to you, totally awesome person! *Hands you a package of virtual redvines***

**Back to the story! I'm so happy that I've got _this _chapter done because this was what I had imagined this story would have became in the first place and the whole scene in my mind was just… _there_. In this chapter, we're switching our POV goggles and getting a scope of what Blaine's life is turning out at the moment.****  
**

**ALSO! I'm now an established beta reader! Yay! If anyone's interested go on ahead but please not this is my first time using this… thing and I'm slightly confused so if you want me you'll have to deal with me not knowing how to operate some of the things.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Blaine loved coffee. Without it, he wouldn't even know how he would've been able to get out of bed. It worried a lot of people. He just ignored it. He loved his caffeine boost, and nothing was going to stop him from getting it. Which was the reason why he was entering this cute looking coffee shop called "LaBelle's" nearly in the center of Bushwick.

The little bell above the door chimed quietly, announcing his presence when he pushed open the door. The place was quiet, the only sounds being the whirling of the coffee being made and the clinks of silverware and platters being heard coming from the kitchen in the back.

The door fell shut behind him and Blaine strolled up to the barista: a woman probably in her early twenties with black-rimmed glasses. As Blaine approached the counter, her nametag read "Hi, I'm _Jordan_", her handwriting small, a little shy, yet extremely neat.

He ordered his usual drink that he will order _everywhere_: a medium drip. While the barista, Jordan, left to fill in his order, he felt the familiar vibrate of his phone in his pocket. He internally sighed as he pulled up his phone and read the text on the screen.

_Hey sweetie, I hope you have a great day at work! I will try to catch your show tonight if I can. Love you!_

Blaine could read right through his girlfriend's lie. Charlotte never bothered to attend any of his gigs, coming up with the lamest excuses why.

Just as he shoved his phone back into his pocket with a little too much force than necessary, the barista returned with his drink. Once he paid, he grabbed his drink and scanned the tiny shop, searching for a small table to occupy.

He ended up choosing a table near the door with a lamp just hanging above it. Placing the cup down on the table, he pulled out his phone to notice a few more texts from Charlotte that he didn't even know about. Unsurprisingly, they were about how she _just _found out that she couldn't make it, apologizing over and over again.

Blaine simply shook his head, taking a sip from his steaming medium drip. Knowing her for nearly three months now, he is still wondering how she never attended any of his gigs. From the very beginning, she was interested in his love for music, and promised to watch him play, but she never had made that promise come true, and he was getting a little tired from it.

He didn't hear the chime of the bell announcing the presence of a new customer; he was too caught up scrolling through the many texts that Charlotte had sent to him. Naturally, many of them were those same excuses of not being able to do things with him. To prove his own point, he started deleting each text that had lines similar to "sorry", "can't make it" and/or "maybe next time". He had to wrinkle his forehead in concentration.

That concentration snapped like a toothpick when he heard a loud _swoosh_ and then there were papers flying all over him like snowflakes.

His head shot up to find the source of whatever or whoever dumped a bunch of papers on him, when there is a man on his knees right next to Blaine's table. The man was scooping up all of the papers that were scattered throughout the floor, muttering expletives left and right that would have Blaine's uptight mother stick two bars of soap in his mouth for extra measures.

Finally, the man stood up, his back to Blaine's face. He stood there a few moments, shuffling through the papers angrily. When Blaine realized that he had at least ten different sheets of paper on his table, he reached up and gently tapped the man's shoulders.

The man spun around to fully face Blaine, his cheeks a slight rosy flush, probably of embarrassment.

"Are these yours?" Blaine asked, gesturing to all of the sheets on his table.

The stranger nodded and quickly began gathering the papers. "Yes they are, and I'm so sorry about that." Blaine couldn't help but notice the uniqueness of his voice, higher than the average man but somehow almost… angelic? Also his hair was coiffed, kind of reminding Blaine of Adam Lambert's similar hair, except there was just a hint of more product than the former _American Idol _contestant would use.

"It's no problem," Blaine said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Why so many papers?"

The man sighed, continuing to shuffle the papers in his hands. "They're music sheets. I attend NYADA, the New York Academy of-"

"The New York Academy of Dramatic Arts," Blaine cut in, grabbing his cup. The man raised a curious eyebrow as Blaine took a quick gulp and setting it back down on the table with a small _thud_. "Yep, I know that place. I auditioned there and didn't get in."

"Really? That's too bad. When did you audition?"

"I actually auditioned a few months ago."

"Well, you know, you can audition again for the winter semester."

Blaine nodded. "That's my plan. But do you happen to have any tips for my next try?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Oh, wait, I know. Mind if I sit?"

"Nope."

He sat down across from Blaine, setting his pile of music sheets right next to him and his shoulder bag hanging from the chair.

"Don't always play it safe," the man started. "Sure, have your number rehearsed and stuff, but don't go for clichés. Or something that you know so well you can sing it backwards or even in another language or have been singing it since you've been like two years old or have it as your go-to song or something."

Blaine's mind was whirling at this point. "Is this from experience?"

"Kind of," he said. "This happened to a good friend of mine."

Blaine bit his lip, his brain still processing the words in his head. "Okay," he finally said after a moment. "That actually makes sense. Thanks so much."

"It's no problem," he stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the hardwood floor. "I better get going now. It was a pleasure meeting you…?" He trailed off, looking at Blaine expectantly.

"Oh, yeah. Blaine, Blaine's my name," he even shot his hand forward, which the man grasped tightly and shook it.

"It was an absolute pleasure associating you, Blaine." He let go to grab his sheets of music, tucking them under his arm and went for his bag.

It was rapid fast and so not expected. Blaine didn't even know how it happened. When the man reached over to grab his shoulder bag, he swung it so it would hang on his shoulder. The bag swooped over and knocked right at Blaine's Medium drip, sending it flying to Blaine's shirt, which just so happened to be bright green.

The man gasped in utter shock and his hand flew straight to his mouth. "_Shit_," he exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers. "I am so, _so _sorry!"

"No, it's okay," Blaine reassured, but the man had plopped his bag and sheets down and was already brushing past behind him. He quickly returned with enough napkins to clean a dozen toddlers' muddy tracks in a house after playing outside in the rain for hours.

The man began pressing the napkins to Blaine's chest like he was trying to stop a dying man from bleeding, but no matter the napkins he was too late to halt the staining.

He continued to make profound apologies, not giving Blaine the chance to stop him so he can clean up himself and promise the distraught stranger _who still hadn't told him his name yet_ that it was alright.

"It's okay, I got it, I accept your apology," Blaine said, fighting for the napkins from the man's hands.

With a sigh, the man gave up and reluctantly handed them over. There was silence as Blaine continued to try and not make the mess already worse than it already was.

"I give up," Blaine said, tossing the napkins down on the floor. "This shirt is ruined."

"I'm still sorry about it," the man muttered. "I'm just so clumsy sometimes."

"Everyone's allowed to be clumsy every once and a while," Blaine said.

"Well, yeah, but today is just one of those days. Hell, it's not even nine in the morning."

"But hey, it was worth it."

The man furrowed his eyebrows. "And how, may I ask, is this _worth it_?"

"For certain, I got professional advice from a _NYADA_ student. That is so worth being soaked in my own coffee."

The man burst out laughing, his cheeks a slight tinge of red. "Oh my god, I am _not _a 'professional'. Nowhere near it, anyways."

"It's something," Blaine said with a chuckle.

Then a look of realization dawned on the man's face. "God, with all of this craziness, I didn't even bother telling you my name! I'm Kurt, the world's klutz in the flesh."

_Kurt_. The name fitted the newly acquainted stranger. _Kurt_. "It's a _honor _meeting Kurt, the world's most famous klutz," Blaine said. "And I even got a personal autograph from him. How _awesome _is that?"

Kurt giggled, stifling his laughter with his hand. "It is really awesome. As cool as your _autograph _is, you might want to change out of that shirt. It just doesn't go with your pants, or your shoes, or your jacket…"

Blaine shrugged. "Eh. I don't care. I'm proud to flaunt my autograph in front of the city's population. I'm sure the people of Manhattan would be extremely jealous."

"I bet they would. And…" Kurt seemed to shrink a little smaller in front of Blaine, and Blaine had to wonder what he had to say. "… Is it all right if I had your number? I'd really like to hang out with you again sometime."

Blaine could have not fished his phone out of his pocket faster. "Here, type in your number."

Kurt complied, handing it back to him when he finished. "Okay, I'm really sorry to leave, but I really have to get going."

"It's no problem. Thanks again, and I guess I'll see you later."

With a wave, Kurt grabbed his bag and his lovely stack of music sheet and all but bolted out of LaBelle's and sprint down the block.

He glanced back at his phone, looking at the new contact. _Kurt Hummel_. What a wonderful name.

His smile didn't even fade when Charlotte texted him, requesting for him to do the groceries the next day.


End file.
